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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006171">transition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/possumsunshine/pseuds/possumsunshine'>possumsunshine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>changing [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, just a little angst as a treat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:33:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/possumsunshine/pseuds/possumsunshine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The detective learns that becoming a vampire is not without its risks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Male Detective &amp; Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Male Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>changing [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2215515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>transition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>do you ever stare at the unpainted drywall of your rental apartment and think too much about your detective's li having to hunt him down and kill him and you get the urge to start gnawing on it? anyway it gets a lil horny at the end</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The drive back from the facility is quiet, though not the familiar silence that normally falls between them. The Agency humvee tears down the freeway, Mason's focus narrow and sharp as he weaves amongst cars and trucks, driving with precision. The world speeds by around them, concrete and powerlines lost in a blur as Levy stares vacantly out the window, arms folded, lost in his own head.</p><p>This morning, he'd been beaming about their meeting with his transitional counselor, ready to finalize details and sign paperwork and handle the surprising amount of bureaucracy that comes with willingly crossing the line from human to supernatural. He'd been the one assuring Mason, running a hand over his arm, his neck, his cheek, as they stood outside the office, waiting for their appointment.</p><p>And now...</p><p>"How are you feeling about it?"</p><p>Levy jumps just a hair, and turns with wide eyes and a tense frame. "What?"</p><p>Mason keeps his eyes fixed on the road. "How are you feeling about it, Lev?"</p><p>"Fine." He turns back towards the window.</p><p>Mason grunts. "You're not fine. Talk to me."</p><p>"It's--" Levy starts, stops, gives an exasperated sigh. "It's nothing. I'm overthinking things." </p><p>"Like?"</p><p>Again Levy looks to him. Mason can feel his dark eyes surveying him, examining him; he can feel Levy's heartbeat swell, and hear the tightening of his throat. "Just the stuff that Sian said. About what will happen. What might happen."</p><p>Ah.</p><p>Sian, an imposing vampire with sturdy yet soft features, a man whose tone shifts from genial to purely professional in an instant, is the head of the indoctrination of most vampires who join the agency nowadays. He'd greeted them sternly, closed the door behind them with a snap, and turned to the forms Rebecca had submitted with a discerning eye. "You're a special case," he'd eventually said with a gentle smile, "Most of the folks I meet are already turned, at least partially." And Levy, casually sunken into a stiff office chair with Mason at his side, had smiled his usual charming smile, shot him some one-liner about always being a special case, launched into small talk about his experiences, his history with the agency, his reasons.</p><p>All fine. Calm and collected.</p><p>"And you're aware of the risks, yes?"</p><p>The smile had stayed, but gone was his sunny confidence.</p><p>"Vaguely," Levy admitted, "I know it'll be painful, probably. Ava and Nat haven't really told me anything else."</p><p>Mason shifted his weight to his other leg, uneasy.</p><p>Sian frowned.</p><p>"Painful is one way to put it," Sian started, pushing his reading glasses over his forehead. "It will be painful. The transition always is, even if successful."</p><p>"If, huh?" Levy laughed, but it had sounded hollow and empty.</p><p>"If, yes," Sian continued. "Transition often never goes as planned. Many people don't live through it." His dark eyes glinted warily. "And sometimes, those that do live through it don't actually survive it." </p><p>"What does that mean?" Mason cut in like a knife. After throwing him a withered look, Sian had turned his attention back to the only human in the room, sunken in his seat and rigid.</p><p>"To put things simply...Statistically, you will be fine, Levy. Especially with the Agency overseeing your changing; most vampires don't get that opportunity, and they survive just fine. There is, however, a chance that you will die during the change. And there is a chance that you will change, but you will become..." Sian clicked his tongue, eyes searching for words around the room. "Something akin to feral."</p><p>"Feral." Levy's smile was completely gone.</p><p>"Some fledgling vampires become overwhelmed by the more...animalistic tendencies of being vampiric," Sian explained, "They lose their sense of self, rational thought and inhibitions, and generally become extremely violent."</p><p>"And I'm sure the Agency handles that like they normally do," Mason snarked.</p><p>"They are hunted down, captured, and contained when possible, yes." The tired look on Sian's face had not gone unnoticed.</p><p>"Well," Levy said, reaching over to pat Mason's hip, "Sounds horrific. Vampirism better be worth the risk."</p><p>Sian gave him a grimace that, if it is meant to be comforting, fails.</p><p>The rest of the meeting had gone far smoother, with Sian explaining how things will be handled: Felix will be the one to do the actual turning (he volunteered in the first place, and Levy had agreed wholeheartedly that he'd rather it be someone he knew) with several agents on hand to watch over it. As soon as the task is done, Levy will be put into a fourteen day quarantine, carefully monitored, observed, and tested regularly. After the fourteen days, depending on his recovery, people can start visiting him individually, one by one, starting with yes, Mason, of course Mason. (Levy pats his hip again at that.) He will then meet daily with Sian or other counselors to learn how to control his newfound powers, how to hide and conceal when necessary, and how to use when needed. They'll keep track of his progress, submitting a report to Agent Graham every day, from start to finish.</p><p>After Levy is deemed fit, he will be released back to Unit Bravo.</p><p>The thought of it, all of it--not being there when he is turned, not seeing him for weeks, and even after that, being very restricted on when he can see him, or even worse, things going wrong--irritates Mason, grit to his senses, but he tries to swallow it down.</p><p>It's for the best, in the end, and he knows that Levy agrees.</p><p>But now that Levy is staring blank-faced at the dash, Mason wonders if he's not having second thoughts.</p><p>"Which part?" Mason asks, sounding far less confident than he'd meant to.</p><p>"I mean," he lets out a mirthless, barking laugh, "Most of it. I'm not really looking forward to the excruciating pain. Or maybe dying. Or maybe going fucking bestial."</p><p>"Possum, that's not gonna happen."</p><p>"You don't know that," Levy bites, "I don't know that. It could."</p><p>"It could, but it won't. You're scared," Mason says, firm and short, sliding a hand onto his knee, squeezing after Levy relaxes the slightest bit, "That makes sense. You should be. But wallowing in what might happen won't help."</p><p>The uncomfortable silence returns, thick as a brick wall between them. Anxiety rolls off of the detective in waves, the sharp tang of fear and dread battering against Mason's senses as the two of them sit stark still, quiet and tense.</p><p>Mason breaks it with a rumbling sigh, and begins to slide the car into an exit lane.</p><p>"Wait, this isn't--"</p><p>"I'm pulling over," Mason says simply, plainly, and Levy doesn't argue.</p><p>The off ramp takes them to a fairly barren country road, a gas station with two pumps and a small shack on one side and a farmer's field on the other. Mason whips the car onto the nearest right turn, a gravelly path surrounded by rows and rows of corn, and throws it in park, shutting it off, throwing his door open.</p><p>"Come on. Backseat."</p><p>Levy casts a bitter look at him. "I'm not really in the mood right now."</p><p>"Not what I mean, Lev, and you know it," Mason says, slamming the door with finality.</p><p>It takes a couple minutes for Levy to break down, stubborn as he is and always will be, before he too climbs out of the car. He stands in the sunlight for a moment, vacantly staring into the cloudless sky, and runs his hand through his hair before sighing and hauling himself into the roomy backseat of the humvee. Mason moves himself and adjusts to make space for him, one leg on the seat and the other off, so that Levy can slot against his larger frame, head in the crook of his neck, hand on his heart. The deep exhale that pushes from Levy's lungs once he settles carries weight with it, all of the pent up stress and frustration, all of the fright and nerves of the day in a single, wavering breath. Mason, arm hooked around Levy's slight shoulders, pulls him a little closer.</p><p>"Sorry," Levy murmurs.</p><p>"You didn't do anything."</p><p>Levy gives a minute shrug, almost imperceptible.</p><p>They sit in a new silence for a while, one more intimate and comfortable and known, the only noise being the whistling wind through the stalks around them paired with the occasional zip of a passing car. Mason swears Levy has dozed off, his breathing too even and calm compared to earlier, before he stirs, readjusting, thumbing at the collar of Mason's shirt.</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>"Hey," Mason responds, soft and low.</p><p>"Promise me something?"</p><p>"Anything."</p><p>A moment or two passes.</p><p>"If I...go feral. If things get fucked up--" The words sound dragged, forced, rough, and Mason tightens his loose grasp just a bit. "--You'll be the one to...deal with me."</p><p>"It's not gonna happen."</p><p>"But if it does." Levy sits up just enough to meet grey eyes.</p><p>Mason palms his cheek, moving to his jawline, brushing away the hair that falls against it.</p><p>"Yeah, Levy. I won't let anyone hurt you."</p><p>"And don't let them put me in one of those inhumane mind-hell comas. Just kill me."</p><p>"If they even tried it, they'll end up having to drug me up too." No playful banter, no humor, no wisecrack--the gravity with which he says it makes Levy's heart give a heavy thud against his ribs.</p><p>"At least we'll go down together, huh?"</p><p>"As usual," Mason replies with a smirk.</p><p>When Levy smiles for the first time since they'd left the facility, Mason knows he'll be alright.</p><p>He draws him in for a kiss, hand at the back of his neck, lips sliding sweetly against each other; Levy leans into him, angling for as much contact as possible in the growing heat of the car. The kiss quickly transforms from chaste to intimate to messy, all tongues and teeth, sucking and nipping as Levy's hands drift down his body, one stopping at Mason's chest to palm and fondle, the other sliding lower to the hem of his shirt. A breathy shudder comes from one of them, perhaps both, when they finally separate for air. Levy's fingertips mingle in the hair of Mason's stomach, hesistating to go lower.</p><p>"It doesn't seem like many people come through here," Levy murmurs, merely a breath away.</p><p>"No," Mason agrees, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "But it might be better if we wait until later."</p><p>"Not gonna let me bury my feelings in getting dicked? How cruel of you," Levy says with an impish grin.</p><p>"Oh, handsome." One of Mason's hands slides over his ribs, his hip, around to the curve of his ass, eliciting a quiet gasp, a roll of his hips. "You know I want you completely focused on me when I take you apart."</p><p>He allows a few more kisses, long and slow and deep, and a little more groping as well--he knows how to tease, but Levy does as well, and Mason finds his resolve almost broken when he feels a hand slide over the front of his jeans--before nudging the smaller man back and letting some of the stuffy air of the car come between them.</p><p>"Home," he growls, and Levy nods with enthusiasm.</p><p>They fumble out of the car, Levy shaking out a cramp in his leg with a swear before they move back to the front seats. The engine gives a gutteral snarl as it roars to life, and as Mason is about to throw the car in gear, Levy's hand lands on his own.</p><p>"Love you," he says quietly.</p><p>Mason leans across the console, and presses a light kiss to his shoulder. "You too."</p>
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